"The Grey Mare Inn!" exclaimed Viner, while Mrs. Killenhall and Miss Wickham looked at each other wonderingly. "Where is that? It sounds like the name of some village tavern." "Ah, but you don't know this part of London as I do, sir!" said Barleyfield, with a knowing smile. "If you did, you'd know the Grey Mare well enough--it's an institution. It's a real old-fashioned place, between Westbourne Grove and Notting Hill--one of the very last of the old taverns, with a tea-garden behind it, and a bar-parlour of a very comfortable sort, where various old fogies of the neighbourhood gather of an evening and smoke churchwarden pipes and tell tales of the olden days--I rather gathered from what I saw that it was the old atmosphere that attracted Mr. Ashton--made him think of bygone England, you know, Mr. Viner." "And you say he went there regularly?" asked Viner. "I've seen him there a great deal, sir, for I usually turn in there for half an hour or so, myself, of an evening, when business is over and I've had my supper," answered Barleyfield. "I should say that he went there four or five nights a week." "And no doubt conversed with the people he met there?" suggested Viner. "He was a friendly, sociable man, sir," said Barleyfield. "Yes, he was fond of a talk. But there was one man there that he seemed to associate with--an elderly, superior gentleman whose name I don't know, though I'm familiar enough with his appearance. Him and Mr. Ashton I've often seen sitting in a particular corner, smoking their cigars, and talking together. And--if it's of any importance--I saw them talking like that, at the Grey Mare, the very evening that--that Mr. Ashton died, Mr. Viner." "What time was that?" asked Viner. "About the usual time, sir--nine-thirty or so," replied Barleyfield. "I generally look in about that time--nine-thirty to ten." "Did you leave them talking there?" inquired Viner. "They were there when I left, sir, at a quarter past ten," answered Barleyfield. "Talking in their usual corner." "And you say you don't know who this man is?" "I don't! I know him by sight--but he's a comparatively recent comer to the Grey Mare. I've noticed him for a year or so--not longer." Viner glanced at the two ladies. "I suppose you never heard Mr. Ashton mention the Grey Mare?" he asked. "We never heard Mr. Ashton say anything about his movements," answered Miss Wickham. "We used to wonder, sometimes, if he'd joined a club or if he had friends that we knew nothing about." "Well," said Viner, turning to the florist, "do you think you could take me to the Grey Mare, Mr. Barleyfield?" "Nothing easier, sir--open to one and all!" "Then, if you've the time to spare, we'll go now," said Viner. He lingered behind a moment to tell Miss Wickham of Mr. Pawle's appointment for the morning, and then went away with Barleyfield in the Notting Hill direction. "I suppose you've been at the Grey Mare since Mr. Ashton's death?" he asked as they walked along.